Man kisses
by sneekymagee
Summary: "As a matter of fact I think she probably hates your butt too." He followed her casually. "Oh mon cher I think eet is impossible for anyone to hate my butt." FemScoutxSpy ONESHOT-ish


**MAN KISSES**

**Summary – **_**"As a matter of fact I think she probably hates your butt too." He followed her casually. "Oh mon cher I think eet is impossible for anyone to hate **_**my**_** butt." **_**ONESHOT-ish. Not really, more of a character development for a fem class that has the possibility to develop if I'm motivated.**

**CHAPTER RATING –T**

**Pairings – FemScoutXSpy**

**WARNINGS – Just scout's mouth and some sexual connotations.**

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She peered disheartened at the cracked mirror, pressing her boobs together, if you could call them that. She swore her mom's gene stash for knockers has depleted progressively down the line of her 7 sisters. Leaving her, the runt of the family, with barley even a reason to bear a bra in the first place. Still, she mused absent mindedly, running would be all the more difficult with a pair of grapefruit stuck to your chest. She had seen Amanda trying to play baseball and it was not pretty. Well at least not for her, seeing her sister bobbing around like that. He friends didn't mind though; being predominantly guys, fucking dipsticks. Amanda sucked ass at baseball anyway. She was pretty sure her skanky sister was just doing it to get laid. A fact that she was constantly reminded of, being that Amanda could get laid in the first place, and that boys didn't like tomboys, or funny chicks. But still, as far as she was concerned, being as awesome as she was (because she was awesome), it didn't matter if boys wanted to fuck her or not, she had a niche. She wasn't another slut, or skank or pretty little housewife, she fucking could waste grown men and be home in time for dinner. She'd like to see any of her sisters do that!

Sighing she stopped poking her chest and pulled a blue shirt over her head, the dog tags he uncle had given her glimmered in the setting sun. Another long day of fighting was over. To be honest she loved her job, really loved it, and the pay was wicked, but it was tiring even for someone as hyped up as herself. Respawn was a bitch, and in excessive doses the dull temporary headache that resulted often formed into a full on migraine by the end of the day. Medic said it was because of her sugar levels, something about diabetes or some shit. What did he know? The sadistic ex-Nazi, probably just wanted to poke her with needles to 'make sure'. All she knew was two of his 'magic pills' did the trick after a long day, and she was fully prepared to use excessive force to get what she wanted. Pondering this she grabbed the nearest bat she could reach and shook herself out. Stepping out of the room she glanced at the leggy sniper, strolling casually down the corridor, newspaper tucked under one arm and a mug of coffee in her hand.

"Sup snipes?" She greeted turning her room key in the lock, and slipping it into a pocket. The Australian broad eyed her with an annoying degree of superiority.

"Nuthin' much short stop, just going to the mess hall for a bit of grub," she slowed and adjusted her sunglasses. "You coming? I hear our friendly neighborhood firebug is going the honors again." They both shuddered in a mutual distaste of charred vegetable mush. Scout shook her head.

"Later probably, I havta go beat medic inta givin' me some drugs." The marksman chuckled.

"Good luck, " she moved to go. "Don't let 'im get to close." Scout nodded in acknowledgement and turned to go. "Oh hey, scout?" She turned back to the sniper, quirking an eyebrow. "Watch out for Soldier, he's in a foul mood"

"No change there then," she quipped back grinning. They both laughed openly. Being 2 out of the 3 women on the team, (4, maybe, with pyro you could never really tell) scout often found she had a certain kinship with the Australian, despite being about 25 odd years her junior. It had been a long time since she'd first started at the base, and she hadn't been the first female, but there was still an underlying bias against her gender being involved in the war. Jealous fuckers obviously couldn't handle their greatness, her being the greatest of course. But still, it wasn't really that bad, most of the men had grown accustomed to their presence. And the rest hadn't even cared from the get go. Their soldier, for example, would bark orders at anything that could hold a gun. She shuddered.

"Yeah, thanks snipes," she grinned openly as sniper tipped her hat and walked off.

Heading in the other direction, scout kicked up her shoes casually. She had no desire to eat anything that maniac had prepared for them, maybe she could hide out in the medi bay. It was a tough choice. On one hand indigestion via a flame happy psycho who'd set fire to anything that even vaguely insinuated his incompetence. The other a sadistic nazi who'd skewer anything close enough with needles in the name of 'science'. She sniffed in indignation, she didn't fancy either really, plus the doc hated her anyway. She supposed she could just get her drugs and hide out in her room. Then wait till she could raid the fridge with the alacrity of a 20 something with an endless stomach and endless metabolism. Yeah, that'd be fine.

She trotted down the steps to the dingy medi bay. Medic was sitting as calmly as ever at his grey metallic desk.

"Ja?" he looked up and adjusted his stupid round glasses with an air of importance, his face falling when he realized who it was. "Vat do_ you_ vant?"

"I need drugs doc, and I'm fully prepared to bash ya head in to get dem," she pointed the bat at his face to fully illustrate her point. He was not amused and pushed it aside.

"Wieder! I keep telink you, you need to stop consuming zo much of zat sugar filled drink!" She put her hands up defensively.

"Hey man, dat 'sugar filled drink' has saved your ass more than once ya know!"

"Zat as maybe, but ze 'eadaches vill no be goink anywhere unless you cut down!" He stood up, baring some sort of chart with a flourish. "Zis is you sugar levels," pointing fervently at some random line. "I 'av bee a doctor for over twenty years! I 'av never seen anyzink like zis! Have you ever even read ze varning label?" She let out a dismissive snort and grinned.

"Warnings are for pussys doc. That's what you're here for!" She gestured to him with her bat. He looked slightly nervous, following her bat with his eyes, and sniffed disapprovingly. "I do not know vy I even try to help you, you never listen."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he continued.

"I am a battle physician dummkopf, I am not responsible for somezink you are fully capable of preventink," he took a calming breath, still following the bat with his eyes. "I vill not be giving you any drugs unless you promise to stop takink zo much of zat stupid drink."

"What?" She sighed in exasperation as he stomped to prove his next point.

"I am puttink my foot down zis time!" She held her hands out in a deceptively friendly way.

"Come on doc we've been here before, and we both know what happens," she prodded the bat to his chest impatiently. "I hurt you and you give me the drugs anyway so why don't we skip the pain train and you resign to ya fate." She waved the bat dangerously close to his nose again. He was starting to panic. Sure she was just a tiny little girl but she did bring pain when mad. She continued. "And stop lecturing me! Hell doc if I'd wanted schooling I woulda finished school!" He didn't say anything, determined to not give in, although it would be so much easier just to let her have her drugs and die of sugar poisoning later. Moving closer, she placed the bat under his glasses threateningly.

"Nice glasses," she flicked them off his face and caught them in the same gesture. "Shame if someone broke them." She carefully placed fingers either side of the frames and bent them ever so slightly.

"Give zem back you dummer idiot!" Waving them in his face she stepped back as he tried to snatch them back. As she smirked smugly; he reasoned his last idea was looking very inviting. "See, now I have something ya want knucklehead," she spun the frame on her finger. "Not very nice is it?" He sighed, frustrated, screw it, if she wanted to die then so be it.

"Fine I vil give you your stupid little drugs," he held his hand out expectantly. "Just give me my glasses back dummkopf." She handed them over triumphantly and he put them on testily. Heading to a locker in the corner he continued. "You are viz out a doubt ze most infuriating little madchen I av ever ad ze misfortune of meetink."

"Same to ya, four eyes," she snatched the box of painkillers from him. He glared at her, she rolled her eyes. "Hey man if I take a box then I wont have to come see ya for a while." He pondered this.

"Yes I zink zat ould be wise." He made a note on his clipboard. "I vould varn you against taking too many but I know you vill just ignore me anyvays." She patted his cheek intrusively.

"Damn straight, see we are getting to know each other!" He snorted.

"Hardly," he picked up a needle. "Now get ze 'ell out of my office before I change my mind and decide I need a blood sample." She didn't need telling twice.

"Later doc," she saluted.

"Dear got, I hope not," he waved her away.

Well that went better than she'd imagined, she thought smugly as she took the stairs up, two at a time. They were finally beginning to understand each other. Understand who was boss that is. Which was her; _of course._ Ripping open the packet the doc had given her, she popped out two of the little pink pills, swallowing them eagerly. Dry swallowing was not the most fun way to take pills but she didn't care. Her head was being a bitch and even though she'd just taken them she could feel the edges of the pain begin too disperse. Nice. She wondered vaguely about the long-term effects respawn was probably having as she jogged up the stairs to the living quarters. But of course no one questioned its necessity. When she had first come to the god-forsaken desert in the middle of nowhere. She'd been curious about exactly what it was, but in the end no one really knew what was going on or how it worked, and she'd learnt to keep her questions to herself. She wasn't being paid to ask questions.

The killing was another thing too. At first it had seemed a bit excessive and too clinical. 'I mean 9 to five _every day_.' What was it, some kind of office schedule? (With weekends free _of course_.) Even for someone from her violent background the constant nature of it all was a bit tiring. Her father would be horrified. But if truth be told, she wasn't _really _killing anyone, because they just came back to life like she did. And she had to admit it, she relished the chance to knock about a few skulls and shoot a few holes in the fuckers. Despite their sexist bias they were a lot more accepting of her violent nature than the knuckleheads back home. It was like a game with no consequences. She could be as violent as she pleased and no one cared, they encouraged it! She was chuckling to herself when she turned the corner and the pyro came into view, speaking of violent fuckers, he was carrying what looked like a plate of soot. Panicking she opened the nearest door and leapt inside, pressing her ear to the wood.

"Mmmph? Ar yrh iin mghr?" The pyro's muffled voice was further muffled, but she got the gist. _Scout? Are you in there? _There was another knock, presumably now, on her bedroom door. "harrgh yrrgh hungher!" She heard the knob being rattled violently. "Mmmrgh yrg huurghur!" There was a long muffled sigh. "Mffgh!" She heard the sound of someone slumping and then silence. Daring a quick glance she cracked open the door a centimeter. The stupid pyro was sitting in front of her door looking decidedly irritated. Great, he was camping out and she wasn't even in the right room. She sighed quietly; moron took things to personally, he was angry just because she wouldn't eat his coal for dinner, what a moron. She closed the door quietly and looked around. She didn't know whose room this was, if it was anyone's, it was stark and bare. Even Sniper had a picture of her folks by her bed and some movie hero poster in the bottom of her sock draw. She went to a draw and pulled it open, nothing. The others were also empty. Maybe it was no ones room, which was good. She smiled to herself. She could hide out here.

Sitting on the bed she twiddled her fingers and yawned. The pills must have been those drowsy ones. The ones you shouldn't take before driving or whatever. She chuckled, not that she took any notice of the warnings that is, being for pussys as they were. The bed was clean though; she'd just lie down for a bit and wait for the pyromaniac to get bored and run off to terrorize someone else. Leaning back, she stared at the ceiling. There was a picture of some poncy looking chick. Well that's interesting. She sat up and stood on the bed to look at it closer. _Cher Joseph, vous êtes un bel homme, Edith. _ Pfht, whatever. The only language worth knowing was English as far as she was concerned. Creepy Europeans, and their creepy languages. She fell back down again. How weird. It was in French she guessed; maybe it belonged to the spy. But why would he leave something like that in an empty room? And _Joseph?_ What kind of a faggot name was that? If it did belong to him, she'd have to remember to pay him out about that one. She snuggled into the pleasant smelling pillow. Whatever, she was really drowsy now and to be honest had no desire to pick apart _that_ guy's mind.

The sun was completely gone by the time she'd woken out of her bleary stupor. Rubbing a hand over her dry eyes she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. The clock ticking on the wall read Eleven thirty. How has she slept for so long? She'd only meant to doze for a minute or two before going back to her room. Those painkillers must have been extra drowsy or something. There was a creak of a floorboard.

"What are you doing in my room?" She swore she'd jumped about a meter off the bed and spun around. Standing there with a jacket draped over one arm was spy. Holy crap.

"I uh, I was just…um..i fell asleep," he raised an eyebrow in distain, placing his jacket on the chest of draws.

"Yes I can see that," she steadied herself quickly and pointed at him. Better to shift the blame.

"Well why didn't ya wake me dumbass!" She noticed his disgusting cigarette, dangling in his fingers. She eyed it hatefully.

"Oh, I only just got in myself," gesturing to the open door he took a step towards her. She narrowed her eyes.

"What kind of dumbass doesn't lock his door?" he laughed.

"I av no need to lock zis door mon cher," taking a drag he continued. "You sink I keep my valuables where any Joe somebody could nick zem?" The Joe reminded her of something. Her face lit up.

"So dat is ya picture!" The spy's face fell and he glanced at the ceiling.

"Vat are you rabitting on about now?" He feigned indifference, looking at the opposite wall.

"Da picture on the ceiling! " She jumped up on the bed to get it down. Quick as a flash spy was next to her, grasping her wrists tightly. He blew a cloud of disgusting smoke in her face. She coughed violently.

"Do _not_ touch zat photograph," he growled warningly. From this position he was alarmingly taller than her and his face was tightly threatening. She smiled sweetly.

"Sorry _Joseph_," his jaw tensed, and opened his mouth, then sighed glancing at the picture on the ceiling. Suddenly he smiled unexpectedly. She frowned wondering what she'd done wrong, he _should_ be fuming.

"No matter _Patricia,_" she felt her stomach hit the floor.

"H…wha….yu….i….uh," she felt her mouth open and shut but she couldn't form words. _How_ had he _known_? Her hooked a slender finger under her jaw and clamped it shut.

"Close your mouth mon cher, you look like a fish." Damnit.

"Tell anyone ya creepy ass frog and I will bash ya head in." She jumped off the bed swiftly. He followed. There was a pause as neither of them moved. She turned swiftly gesturing with her hands. "H-h-how?" He smiled easily and tapped her nose. She swatted away the intrusion.

"I am a spy little bunny, it iz my job to know zeez things," he took a glance at the picture. "You ow ever, well," he took another drag. "Zat was curiosity." She narrowed her eyes at him and fingered her bat threateningly. "To be 'onest it is not the kind of name I was expecting."

"Oh yeah and what were ya expecting?" He waved a hand casually.

"Somezing to match your general demeanor, somezing more," he stared at her to gauge her reaction. "Manly." She cracked a knuckle.

"Oh yeah? Well so was I," she clicked her tongue impatiently, realizing how hungry she now was. "Joseph's a faggy name," he laughed.

"If you say so, I owever do not care in ze slightest wat you sink," he opened his fag tin and took out another one. She grimaced in disgust; he ignored her pointedly and continued. "But I assure you mon cher I 'av slept with more women than you will ever know." She looked appalled. "Not zat it matters."

"That's disgusting man, you're like ancient." He looked offended.

"Thirty seven iz not _ancient._" She begged to differ. She didn't know what she found worse, the fact her mind was now filling with thoughts of spy being sexually active, or the fact that she was discussing it with him.

"Oh really?" She rocked on her heels as her stomach growled. He looked amused.

"Yes really, you little imbecile," he huffed and flipped the tin closed, lighting the stick swiftly. She shiuffled.

"Well it's kinda hard to tell ya know, with the mask," her stomach rumbled again, he raised an eyebrow.

"You are hungry already?" She scowled.

"I havn't eaten yet dumbass," she folded her arms over her belly and tapped her foot impatiently. "Ya think I'd willingly eat something that knucklehead had made?" She looked at him. "I was hiding out in here cause he was guarding my door."

"Ah so zat is why zere is a plate of ash outside your door, and you," he took a drag. "Are in here." He tapped a foot in sync with her. "I was beginning to wonder." There was a pause. He suddenly reached out, fag stuck between his lips and took her arm just above the elbow. "Come, I 'av not eaten either, you can make me some pancakes." He dragged her out the door.

"Hey! Hey!" She pulled her arm free. "Stop with the man handling fag, I can walk on my own." She straightened her shirt. "Who says I want to go eat with ya anyway?" He looked at her cynically.

"My apologies, I suppose you'd rather starve," he gestured to the room, one hand on the door knob. "Unless of course you wish to sleep on my bed again." She looked affronted.

"Don't get fresh with me ya shapeshifiting gremlin," he chuckled.

"Ah mon cher, you wound me," he put a hand to his heart. "I am so overpoweringly attracted to your 10 year old physique, I zink I might die."

"Now that is just creepy man, cut it out." She crossed her arms protectively over her non-existent chest. "And I do not look like a 10 year old." He laughed.

"No, no you are right," He dragged again. "You look 12 at ze very least." She punched him in the arm and to her satisfaction the fag dropped from his mouth. He glared at her and put it out with his foot. She skipped down the hall beckoning him with a satisfied grin on her face.

"Sniper'l have ya head for that frenchy, ya know how she hates ya butts," she paused and chuckled. "As a matter of fact I think she probably hates your butt too." He followed her casually.

"Oh mon cher I think eet is impossible for anyone to hate my butt," she tried not to laugh, it was so lame. She punched him again. "Dirty old man." She couldn't help glancing down at said butt though. He was right, for all intensive purposes it was quite a butt. She felt her cheeks redden. He swung open the door to the stairwell letting her through knowingly. "Like what you see?" He whispered in her ear as she passed. She ignored him, embarrassed and turned, descending backwards onto the landing.

"And for your information," she continued as if she hadn't just been caught ogling his butt. "I have no idea how to make pancakes, so I guess ya'll be cooking." She clicked her tongue and turned, glancing upwards at him as they descended into the kitchen. He was watching her amused, out of the corner of his eye. It was unnerving somehow especially after their butt conversation.

"Aren't little girls in America meant to know 'ow to cook?" He looked forward as she skipped the last few steps ahead of him. She waved a hand dismissively practically sprinting over to the fridge.

"Yeah little girls who don't kill for a living moron." She opened said fridge and rummaged around for something, anything. Stuffing some mangy looking cheese in her mouth she continued. "Ya fink I hav time ta learn 'ooking?" She grabbed a wizened apple and started chomping. "My fisters hab ib coverb anybay." She reached for a carton of milk next in her tirade, which was promptly slid from her grasp.

"Heyb!" She spat food chunks everywhere. That annoying gloved hand waggled under her nose again.

"Zat is for ze pancakes, and you," he thrust a small towel at her. "Are disgusting." She took the towel grumpily and wiped the specks of food from around her face.

"Ya actually making pancakes?" Her face lit up as he nodded and he looked at her quizzically.

"Yes, of course, why would I not be making pancakes?" She jumped up on the bench and watched him, swinging her legs. He waved a metal thing at her. "You wish to stuff your mouth with 'ard cheese and a wrinkled little apple instead?"

"I thought ya were kidding," she laughed. "Man ya actually know how to cook? If that wasn't so girly I'd be impressed!" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Cooking is not girly imbecile," he opened a cupboard turning away from her. "Some of the best cooks in ze world are men." He placed a bag of flour on the bench decisively. "'appily, married men." She made a face and he scowled. "I must admit all your insults toward my sexuality are beginning to annoy me. One does not need to be 'omersexual or not to enjoy the finer skills." She smirked and he tipped what looked like a random amount of flour and butter into the bowl.

"oooh, insecure about it aren't we?" He turned and stepped close suddenly and clasped her chin in his fingers.

"Believe me. Idiot," he squeezed slightly, looking into her eyes. "I love women _and_ men," he was so close to her she could feel his breath. "I just like women more these days." He let her go and resumed mixing the batter.

"These days?" She jumped off the bench. "Wait, what?" He handed her some eggs.

"Break zees into ze bowl," he looked at her sharply. "If you know 'ow, zat is." She rolled her eyes.

"Oh please, I'm not stupid." He raised an eyebrow and handed her another egg, she obliged, if not to hear more about his faggy past. "So, you were a fag?" He sighed in exasperation and frowned at her.

"I suppose to explain et to you and your little brain, I am still a 'fag'," he flicked his fingers. "One can like both women and men as sexual partners. And please," he handed her a mixing spoon. "Zey are not called 'fags','gay' is just fine." She grinned.

"So how do you know if you're a 'gay' or only a half 'gay'," he sighed.

"Eet is somesing you just know mon cher," he poured some milk into the bowl she was mixing. "Et is a pity zat America is such a close minded country, in France, zis type of relationship is much more widely accepted." He shook his head in disappointment.

"Yeah cause ya all wierdos," she handed him the bowl and dusted her hands. "But whatever, do what you want, I say, and fuck everyone else." He looked at her closely, an amused expression on his face.

"Zat is probably the most intelligent thing you 'av said all evening," he opened a cupboard and rummaged around in it. "I suppose zat is your motto yes?" She nodded as he placed a frying pan on the gas-stove top.

"I'm young but I'm not stupid," she watched as he flicked his lighter, turning the flame to high. "I know I still have shit to learn." She grinned and skipped to the fridge, she could have sworn there was a can of soda in there. She found it and cracked it open, taking a swig. "I'm still awesome though." He smiled.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose," he rubbed the pan with butter, using the metal thing to spread it. She eyed the procedure, deciding she liked this cooking business, also noticing he was without death stick in his mouth.

"You're not smoking?" He glanced at her.

"I don't like eating my cigarettes," she scoffed and took a swig of soda

"But you don't mind inhaling it and fucking up your lungs?" He shrugged, and tapped the spatula on the side of the pan.

"Personal choice mon cher," he eyed the can of soda in her hand. "Much like other personal choices, Miss diabetes." She rolled her eyes.

"Doc's over reacting," she quipped defensivly. He made a sound in acknowledgment as she walked over to him and punched a sleeve, holding her hand out. He looked at her quizzically.

"Give me that thing," he handed it to her carefully.

"It's called a spatula imbecile," she rolled her eyes and nudged him aside.

"Okay, whatever," she dug the 'spatula' into the pan enthusiastically spreading the melted butter, spluttering it everywhere. "I wanna flip some pancakes." He snatched the spatula back promptly, pushing her back out of the way. He eyed his splattered vest with annoyance.

"On second thoughts I sink I should do that," she frowned at him through narrowed eyes.

"Whatever, but I get first pancake!" He rolled his eyes. And grabbed a bottle from the shelf.

"You are so impatient mon cher," he unplugged the bottle which was filled with what looked like jarate. She almost gagged. He chuckled, placing the bottle on the bench. "Et is not what you sink it is," she took the bottle from it's place and observed it.

"What is this stuff?" She waved it in his face. He glanced at her sideways.

"'et is olive oil for ze pan, a little olive oil and a little butter makes perfect pancakes," he inspected the bottle in her hands over her shoulder. "It is Virgin, like you no?" He added as an afterthought, sniggering, glancing sideways at her again. She scowled.

"You don't know anything about me knucklehead," he scoffed and picked up the mixing bowl.

"What kind of spy would be if I did not know anything," he inspected his nails smugly. "I know enough, and more for that matter." She looked at him and opened her mouth to deny the implication. "And before you go blurting into an embarrassing tirade, Yes, I know for a fact," she narrowed her eyes, playing dumb.

"Know what for a fact?"

"Zat you are a little blushing virgin," he punctuated each word annoyingly, bringing a finger up to her nose. She knocked it away forcefully.

"How can ya know it for a fact, maybe I have had sex and ya just weren't stalking me at the time." He laughed and poured a pool of the pancake liquid into the pan.

"Oh believe me little bunny I know," she scowled trying not to drool at the smell of cooking pancakes. He waved the spatula thing around. "What is it you say in America? _Ve av ways of making you talk._" He flipped a pancake. "Well I av ways of making people talk, and I av it on very good authority zat you," he flipped the pancake onto a plate. "Are as white as snow."

"Ya seem to be showing a lot of interest in my love life," she raised an eyebrow snatching the plate off the bench. He laughed.

"Do not feel so flattered," he poured more mixture into the pan. "I get information on everyone, eet is very useful for blackmail." She frowned wondering what else he had on her and spread jam on the fluffy white piece of joy. "For instance, av you ever wondered if ze pyro is a girl or a boy?" She froze and leant in closer. He smiled crookedly and chuckled. "I am not going to tell you, mon cher, but I do know." She groaned.

"That's so unfair!" he shrugged and flipped another pancake onto her plate distracting her from his injustice. She licked her lips and grabbed a fork. Fucking hell these looked delicious. She was starved. "Smo mot do u mav om me?" He looked at her in disbelief and shoved the towel at her again.

"My neighbor's dog eats' more sophisticatedly zan you," her eyes widened and she swallowed forgetting her previous question and his insult.

"These are so good man!" She took another mouthful. He smirked.

"I should 'ope so," he slid the last pancake off the pan and spread jam onto the top. "At least now I 'av mde you shut up." She glared at him but said nothing.

They eat in silence for a few minutes; scout polished her two cakes in record time and was sculling down cola before spy spoke again.

"So av you ever kissed a boy zen?" She almost choked on her drink.

"What?" He placed his empty dish on the bench.

"I am curious," he folded his arms. "I find out back-story, but not zat much." She licked her lips nervously, and could almost swear his eyes following it.

"Yeah, course," he raised an eyebrow.

"So no zen?" She frowned, affronted, and crossed her arms; two could play at that game.

"Ha, whatever you say knucklehead, I've kissed boys, hundreds of boys!" She lied through her teeth. He looked at her, amused and tutted disapprovingly.

"Lying is not becoming of a young lady." He waggled a finger in her face. "Ha! _I_ 'av kissed more boys zan you!" She scowled at him in a mixture of disgust and annoyance.

"Hey man I told ya I do not need to know about your faggy past." She poked him in the chest and tried to change the subject. "Doesn't matter anyway, I could still take ya and that's what counts." She nodded her head arrogantly as he quirked an eyebrow behind his mask, smiling devilishly.

"O I 'av no doubt about zat Mon cher." He stepped calmly forward. It was making her nervous, not in any kind of attraction way she hastily reminded herself, he was ancient _and _a spy. But in the way that if spy was smiling at you under any circumstances, it was probably better to get out of the room before something bad happened. As such he stepped even closer, effectively cornering her in the small kitchen. They both knew what he was getting at.

"What'd ma mom always call dirty old men like ya? Cradlesnatchers or sumthing," she poked him again; he caught her wrist this time and brought it to his neck. She tried very hard to remain cool. "Why don't ya stop being such a pedo and let me go man." He let out a short laugh as her voice broke instead. She scowled, embarrassed. "'Am I making you nervous mon cheri?"

"No!" She let out, almost too quickly. "But come on, you said ya self I looked like a 12 year old."

"Maybe I lied," he caressed her hand softly. "Maybe I find you _very _attractive." She swallowed.

"Ha ha haa… v-very funny dumbass," her heart was beating so fast she could feel it pounding in her chest. Oh god what was happening to her. She was actually starting to find the creeper attractive. "Go pull this seduction bullshit on sniper or someone else your type." He snorted.

"Sniper! My, my you are very funny mon cher," he smiled crookedly. "But alas, we 'av not finished this fascinating little conversation!" She let out a low growl and snatched her hand back from his grasp. "Come along mon cher, I made you pancakes," he raised his brows expectantly. "Surely that deserves an honest answer." Too much, this was getting out of hand. More so for her really, because she knew he wouldn't back down. And if she weren't careful, next she'd want_ him_ to kiss her.

"Fine. Okay knucklehead," she sniffed and folded her arms. "I was lying. Is dat what ya want" She figured she'd just humor the bastard, and then maybe he'd leave her alone. Fat chance! The desperate moron relished any chance to even vaguely annoy her and her comrades, and this was very annoying. Yes, _annoying_ she reminded herself. Not anything else. He quirked yet another fucking eyebrow and rolled his eyes. It was fucking annoying.

"Oh really? I never would 'av guessed." She glared wishing he'd just give it up. It was bad enough he was totally dominating her in sexual conquest but did he have to be such a jerk about it? Oh wait she reminded herself sarcastically, he's a fucking spy so yes.

"Twice," she retorted, determined to get some credibility back. "And one was a boyfriend, so you know…" He smirked as she tried to act smug about her non-existent romp.

"And zis was when? In kindergarten?" He sniggered annoyingly at his own joke. She punched him.

"No dumbass, when I was like 17." He laughed again; rubbing a hand over his crisp suit where she'd punched him.

"I was a _Casanova _17," he shot back arrogantly. "Which means-"

"I know what it means dumbass," she shot back. Grumbling, she narrowed her eyes at him. He was such a man skank.

"You're such a man skank," he laughed amicably.

"Ah perhaps mon cher," he shrugged leaning closer. "But I 'av enjoyed my exploits immensely, you," he ran a finger down her arm; she let out an involuntary shiver. He smiled. "However 'av only kissed one or two _little boys_ in your short little life." She took a steadying breath and put her hands up. She pushed firmly on his stupid pinstripe clad chest as he moved alarmingly closer.

"Hey, hey! Shifty, mind the personal space." He ignored her pointedly and continued, lowering his face till they were cheek to cheek. As much as she wanted to smack him round the head, she couldn't deny the heat that spread throughout her body. Curse her teenage-like libido.

"But you 'av never kissed a _man."_ She could feel his words, and much to her dismay could feel her body giving in again. "'et is so different mon cher." He murmured hotly in her ear, her stomach continued twisting in knots. "Would you like to see what 'eet feels like?" She swallowed thickly in a mixture of genuine desire and irritation. She tired again to push him away again, firmly, not totally meeting his eyes or committing to the gesture. He pressed further.

"_Regardez-moi_," he said quietly, lifting her chin. "Look at me," he translated, when she ignored him. She met his gaze unnervingly.

"What?" She replied not as authoritarian as she had hoped. All this seductive bull shit was putting her off balance; as was probably his intention. She had tried to block out romantic fantasies of any kind for a long time, now he was undoing all her hard work.

Worse, she was not prepared to admit it out loud, but she was pretty sure it was because of how badly she did want to be kissed by a man and particularly one man at this moment. He leant in closer, skimming her lips. She sighed into his almost kiss and almost swore he'd swallowed because of it. There was a moment; she decided to try it, just once. Then.

"''Eavy is coming," she almost had a hernia right there and then. He stumbled as she pushed him away from her, this time hard and full of commitment. Now he wasn't clouding up her mind she could hear the stomping footsteps of the fat Russian approaching. Talk about the most disappointing climax ever.

"'vere is tiny girl?" He stomped angrily into the hall. His beady little eyes scanning the pair till he recognized the shortstop. His face contorted into a frown and he growled. "You stole doktor's glasses!" She adjusted her skewed cap firmly, glancing at the lanky Frenchman. He was gone. _Gee, thanks for the support man_. Whatever, she had more pressing matters, namely the 6-foot pile of fat advancing towards her.

"I gave them back dumbass, what's the big deal!" The large man moved forward towering over her comically small frame.

"You were mean to Doktor, this makes me angry," he cracked a knuckle ominously. "I must teach puny baby some manners."

"He wasn't giving me ma painkillers knucklehead," she skipped lithely past him, moving out of the range of his huge fists. "Do ya want me to die tomorrow cause I can't open my eyes with out passing out? Huh?"

"Vould not matter little baby, you vill just respawn,"

"Yeah and then I'd need more pills!" He lumbered after her.

"It is no matter," he swung at her and she dodged easily. "Rude little girl need lesson in manners!" She jumped easily onto a table, brandishing a chair.

"For fuck's sake fatso, it's like midnight!" she dodged round him to another table. "It's not like I stole _your _glasses." He growled.

"Doktor is…friend," he shifted nervously. "I don't like silly little girls being mean to him." She cocked her head.

"Huh? Okay then fatty, I'll stop being mean to the nazi." She placed the chair on the table. "Is that what ya want?" The large man glared at her.

"Baby just insulted doktor again! And Heavy! Doktor is not Nazi!" He charged at her. "Doktor is noble, loyal man!" She swung the chair. It smashed into pieces over the man's head. He swayed dangerously, holy shit, she jumped off the table quickly and sprinted for the stairs. She could practically feel the ball of lard stumbling at her heels. Then a large thud and a crash. She turned apprehensively. The heavy was face down on the floor and of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a shimmer of something blue, she scowled.

"Spy?" She spun round, trying to catch his outline. "Is that you, you knucklehead? I had him cold you fag!"

There was a voice in her ear.

"Zat would be why he was about to crush you to death," she opened her mouth to retort but then the words were gone, replaced by invisible lips that shimmered out of the cloak. A shimmering body pushing her up against the wall, and then he was there, in all his pin stripe clad glory. She could hardly concentrate on anything that she'd had to think about with _Brad_ or _Ryan._ It was just there; the heat of his hand resting on her waist and the other running up the back of her neck pushing her closer. His hard male body, flush against her own. And his mouth, his faggy, shapely mouth that she had so often sniggered at. She let out a small sigh, as his tongue tasted her lips, begging entrance. She didn't even have to think, she just _obliged_.

And then he was gone.

Her lips were still tingling and she felt like she'd just been flamed by pyro, minus the pain. The door opened.

"What the bloody hell is going on!"

"Mrmp! Mrryr yrh mrah!" A plate of coals was thrust under her nose.

Oh for fuck's sake.

* * *

A/N Please review

NOTE: I have no BETA so I'm sorry for mistakes, I will proof properly later but for now I am to tired to see mistakes properly.

Just a lot of wierdness and a bit of writing practice I guess, kind of an experiment with developing a femclass off the bat. And yes I know some people reckon spy is totally gay. Hell, he could be, I don't really care, he's a fictional character. For this fic he's just Bi. Might continue the relationship, if I feel like it. Sorry about terrorizing the medic so, but who ever said TF2 characters were nice people? By all accounts they aren't really. I tried to make the FemScout as crass and annoying as the real one, as it should be, a lot of fem classes are written so _girly _I mean there's feminine and then there's girly. If you're a contract killer you're not a girly girl. Period. Anyway I know they probably have too much of an amicable relationship, but I figure scout isn't one to back down, and Spy is smart enough to take a joke. I'm not sure how I feel about it actually, as in if spy is genuinely interested in her or just messing and I think Scout is too young and naive to care really.

I also fervently apologise for the Google translated French and german. If you have corrections don't hesitate to mention them Also hurrah for random Jayne reference :P

BUTT IS THE GREATEST WORD IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

Which can probably be seen though my over use of it.

FYI:

* The woman in the picture was Edith Piaf, probably France's most famous singer. She died before the game is set and I don't know if she did autographs and such but I can totally see a young spy idolizing such a woman. The Autograph is mean to read; _Dear Joseph, you are a beautiful man, love Edith. _You can work out what that means yourselves.

More Lockdown coming soon I promise.

Laterz


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